Will Never Forget You
by Draenog Glas
Summary: Was written for Sonic's 23rd birthday, but was very late due to life circumstances. In a weird way, it could be considered a memoir.


Opening his mouth reluctantly, he accepted the spoonful of age-inappropriate goop. This little child of mine was fifteen years old (or 20 years old, I've seemed to lost count), and I fed him nothing but vegetables as small as him, sugar and honey and molasses with a mixture of chilli sauce.

Look child, I don't want you to go for so long. Lonely; it was lonesome in this cold wicked house. Monsters bled in every lurid corner. Whispers coagulate in my brain and I somehow believe their attempts to mollify my self-esteem. Little girls were told to be pretty, then were smacked and defaced by muscular steel poles of society. Holding him so tight; keeping my safety buoyant for at least a few more minutes; seconds if must be. You pout, but you don't reproach or refuse my staccato bursts of affection. Kisses crowning your head like the most lovely beautiful crown I should've had when I was so young and fragile. A symbiosis as I held onto your branches, curious to see how much body heat I could absorb from you, and how long you could hear my scarred heart beating normally before you decide you had to become heroic again. This blue cabbagehead of I, you sustain me with your presence and subtle purrs, I sustain you with security, mirth, a comforting place to come to for so long from your travels, assurances, an unnatural tenacity to be doting and breastly and wombly, warm milk to sip and a pastel starry kingdom befit for my wonderful little prince.

I wasn't sure how, but you slipped in a consensual defeat. One more time, princess cabbagehead, you said. One more time you must baby and smother and kiss me with plump caring lips and feed me with toddler niceties. Then I must go. The little determined bird had to fly from me one day.

My hands were frozen on a stove that I forgot when it existed or how I came here to this fabricated fairytale that I was so unconscious of. Where did this hot chocolate come from, boiling and frothing, as hungry as your eyes. An ample, simple meal was given to you, as promised. Green beans, cauliflowers I mistakenly called Caulfields, a mysteriously woven ham sandwich. Being in this cold wanton apartment complex, we feasted like a prince and princess for the first time in too long. Recalling the sweet bubbles I concocted for you, my lips had done the same. The whipped cream and cherry topping to this relentless fussing and clucking and believing you were my only family; even if you were as tangible as everything that led me to live here shivering from thin spaghetti woven blankets.

My child, I wrapped you up daintly like Christmas came too early. The pink elephants danced on your belly and you didn't mind. Baby colors and baby softness protected you this dark night. I thought better of wrapping you like Saranwrap, afraid my little supposed boy would spoil if I left him out for too long in God knows what I believed these days to be outside.

Laying there on your twin-sized bed, a cocoon that would let you emerge independent and free once again, I saw your glittering subtle smile. Your eyes were closed and I was glad my honey star, because there were too many glittering subtle tears drained into my cheeks.

Where would you go, my child? Feelings of contempt rose in my body and mind and I demanded you stay here in this fucked-up psychotic tundra of mine forever, and child, too late did I realize that even the sweetest indulgent dreams had to fade. Humans could only adapt in whichever way they could, to this Reality, or the reality I had made for myself.

Will you write to me, Sonic?

Your gloved finger zipped my pursed lips. From some sort of intuition, you telepathically told me: _No. You write to me and you write to everyone else you will love as much as me._

Surgery was performed on my madness overnight. Even if they claimed that part of your body was no longer needed and useless, I had some weird desire to duct tape to this gaping abscess. They never understood, but I knew you did.


End file.
